The Faculty Club Part 16

I pulled it out and pointed to the picture. To the man who apparently knew the precise date he was going to die and didn't seem terribly concerned about it. What if he didn't plan on dying in two days? What if his "death"--the obituary--was just a cover story, because he had no intention of going anywhere, ever . . .

"What if . . ." I said. "What if the V and D found a way . . ."

" 'What we are now, you will be,' said the skeleton." Chance smirked.

"What's this 'we' stuff, white man?" Miles replied.

Chance grinned.

"We lost our immortality when we ate from the Tree of Knowledge--and we've been trying to use knowledge to get it back ever since. Kind of ironic, eh?"

He collapsed back into his chair. It had been a masterful performance, weaving together clues from ancient China to modern New England and everywhere in between. And now he was visibly tired. I, in contrast, was filled with new life, a new sense of opportunity--when only a couple of hours ago, it had seemed like every door was closed to me.

"This," I said, pointing to the obituary. "We could use this to get to them."

Chance and Miles exchanged glances.

"I doubt," Chance said slowly, "that the obituary means very much."

"But the stuff you just told me. Bimini . . ."

Chance shook his head.

"There was nothing there. The Spaniards went to Florida next. Guess where they claimed to find the Fountain of Youth? Green Cove Springs on the Saint Johns River. Know how many old people retire to Florida every year? My grandparents included? How many of them live forever?"

"What about amaranth? You said the Greeks used it to cure diseases."

"Check out the Journal of Toxicology, March 2003, volume seven," Miles said. "They use amaranth as a dye in manufacturing. Turns out it's poisonous. Great way to live forever, huh?"

"Maybe they found another way--"

"Jeremy, do you know about seer's salt?"

"No."

"Feast of the Blue Boy?"

"No."

"Samsara? Astral charts? Infinite wave functions? The Uhrgla.s.s?"

"No, no, no, no."

"Do you know when the V and D formed?"

"No."

"Do you know where they meet?"

"Do you?"

"Five years ago I found a clue. A margin note in a book we stole. It said the location was in Creighton versus Worley."

"Those are buildings on campus."

"Yes."

"You checked the buildings?"

"Over months. We even went down into the steam tunnels connecting the buildings. Nothing."

"But the language. Creighton versus Worley. It sounds like a court case."

"It does."

"Does the case exist?"

"Yes."

"You pulled it?"

"We did."

"And . . ."

"It was a contract dispute. A stupid old case that no one would ever look up."

"That's suspicious."

"Everything's suspicious when you want it to be, Jeremy. That's the point. It never ends. I had my math friends go crazy on it. For months. No clues. No hidden codes. It's just a case."

"Fine."

"I spent a semester on it. Nothing."

"I said fine."

"Jeremy," Chance said, not unkindly. "You're showing up late to a game you can't win. I've been pursuing this for seven years. There are people who have tried for as long as the V and D has existed. You're talking to a guy who believes in UFOs, but I can't tell you what these people are really about. Do they have some amazing secret? Maybe. Are they just a bunch of deluded old rich guys desperate to beat the reaper? Could be. Or maybe they're just satisfied ruling the free world. I don't have a clue. Magic or not, bulls.h.i.+t or not, I have discovered one thing. These people take themselves seriously. They have real power. And they don't like being f.u.c.ked with."

"Why did you waste my time, then?"

"Jeremy," Miles said gently, "we told you all this to take the thrill out of it. It doesn't lead anywhere."

"But the obituary--"

"Someone's messing with you. Don't let them."

"But who?"

"It doesn't matter. Maybe it's someone who wants to hurt them. Maybe it's them, seeing if you're smart enough to let it go."

Miles exhaled. He looked at Chance.

"Tell him about Sammy Klein."

"Sammy Klein," Chance repeated.

He shook his head.

"Sammy was a nice guy," Chance said to me. "A really good guy. He got interested in the V and D. It happens. The secrecy. The lore. People are drawn to conspiracies, puzzles. Just because I publish bulls.h.i.+t doesn't mean I'm stupid. Something about them rubbed Sammy the wrong way. He wouldn't give it up. He got a lot farther than I ever did. G.o.d only knows what he knew. He was going to show them."

"I knew him," Miles said. "He was in my dorm, freshman year. Quiet. Always polite to people."

"They found him on the beach," Chance said. "His wallet was gone. Someone stabbed him seven times. The police called it a mugging and closed the case."

"Maybe it was just a mugging--"

"Jeremy," Miles said. He actually put his hand on my arm. "Take the Incompletes. Get straight A's next semester. You're going to be okay."

I sat there for a long time. They watched me.

Then I spoke.

"Did you Shepardize Creighton v. Worley?"

"What?"

"Jeremy," Miles said cautiously.

"Shepardize. That's where you take a case and see all the later cases that cite it. Did you?"

"No," Chance said slowly.

"Jeremy," Miles said again.

"How do you do that?" Chance said.

I told him. We went to the computer and pulled up the case. I showed him how to Shepardize it. Miles was watching us quietly from the corner; he didn't stop us, but I could see he wasn't done. A few citations came up on the screen, but nothing that stood out on first glance. It felt wrong.

I shook my head. "They wouldn't use the computer. Too many eyes. They'd use the books."

"That's ridiculous," Miles said. "If it's in the books it's on the computer."

"Not if someone changed just our book," I said.

That shut everyone up for a moment.

Chance stole a guilty glance at Miles, then looked at me. His eyes had a new life in them.

"Where?" he asked.

Miles looked at me, shook his head.

"The law library," I said.

Chance started tapping his fingers again. He started laughing. "Seven months with the math nerds, I didn't ask a f.u.c.king lawyer." He shook his head. He reached for the joint, sparked it back to life. He took a long drag. After a while, he closed his eyes.

His breathing slowed. Color came back to his face.

He laughed nervously.

"Forget it," he said. "Forget it."

He took another long drag, then said to himself, "Remember Sammy Klein."

Miles stood up. He was so ma.s.sive, in that realm between fat and muscle; the room bowed under the authority of his size.

"Then we're done," Miles said. He put his hand on my back and I stood.

"Thank you, Chance. I know it's not easy dragging all this up. You did a good thing tonight. Jeremy doesn't know it yet, but he's grateful."

"I know." He nodded. "You keep me sane."

Miles laughed and gave him a Russian bear hug, all ma.s.s and hard claps on the back.

Miles and I started walking. We were out the door quickly. Chance called after us. "Your article," he said. He was holding the obituary in his hand. I'd left it on the table.

As I stepped back in to get it, he caught my eye and mouthed: "One hour."

18.

Miles grilled me until he was satisfied I'd gotten the message.

I thanked him and left to run an errand. Something had been bugging me ever since my failed induction into the V&D.

I retraced my steps on the paths winding across campus. It was quiet now, except for the occasional thumping of a party from an open window above me. Here and there, couples made out in the shadows; small groups sat in the gra.s.s, talking quietly or strumming guitars.

I followed the route we'd walked to her house, after the moonlight confession. I pa.s.sed the site where the oranges had spilled. I pa.s.sed the retaining wall where we sat on the ground and talked. I remembered her smile, the quiet tears.

The house looked the same. It was a brownstone; a half-flight of steps led up to the front door. I found S. CASEY on the names by the buzzer.